You are my tough and persistent one. You're not afraid of the big kids. Sometimes I think you believe you are one of the big kids. I've watched you navigate a playground full of rough, screaming children, and you remain completely unfazed. You watch ... and then push right past, not about to be deterred or left behind. You stand your own.
You stand your own with your sister too, and sweet Isabelle, you should probably know that we're on to you. Oh, your cute little disposition fooled us for a while, but we've learned that when you scream and push and yell, "NO!" you may very well just be looking to get big sister in big trouble while you coyly stand by. There may be five years between you, but I see you're catching on to this game quickly.
The list of nicknames for you is endless. I'm not sure you'll appreciate them all as you get older, particularly "Belly." But it's part of your name... sort of... and a part of you that you certainly love showing off.
But it must be said that you are our party girl. You are our daredevil. If there's a hip-hoppy tune, you'll bounce to it, and loudly complain if the next song's too slow. If there's a slide, you'll scooch down it and up it, a million times, every which way you can try. And if there's a chair, table, or bed, you'll free fall from it, trusting that we'll catch you every time, and laughing like a wild woman when we do. Oh you, don't you get such a mischievous look in your eye. A still, sideways glance accompanied by an ever-so-slight smirk, right before you dive off the bed or tear down the street, or jump into whatever it is that I just told you not. to. touch. You keep us on our toes, but if I'm honest, I'm completely in love with your wild and crazy ways.
And for twelve hours, your spunk and spirit take a little rest, re-fuelling for the adventures of the day to come.